Category Archives: Learning Together

Something So Beautiful

Do you ever put off doing something beautiful because you’re too busy?  Until last week, I had been saying “tomorrow” for at least two years every time I drove by the gorgeous lagoon that’s a whopping 1.5 miles from our house.  Ridiculous, I know.

That day after my last online call, I looked up at the cloudless sky, felt the soft breeze, and the sun on my shoulders and heard the words, “Today.  This IS the day!”

So on my way to drop off a ballot at the Post Office and pick up eggs at the neighborhood micro market, I pulled into the parking lot that had been calling my name.  An elderly man carrying the two parts of a fishing pole and a bucket in each hand walked toward me emanating peace. 

The lake I was about to walk around wasn’t just any lake.  It was the one my great aunt and skinny-legged, long braids “me” headed to in her giant boat of a blue Chevy Biscayne.  

There were no seat belts or car seats in those days and even though I was tall for my age, I mostly saw the top of everything as we drove across town to our destination.  I’m sure I was clutching the Wonder Bread wrapper so tightly my palm was sweating.  It would have been a pleasant day, the windows down, the radio on.  

We were on the way to feed the ducks.  My great aunt, our family’s lone Democrat, was the one who took me on adventures.  I’m pretty sure she had as much, if not more, fun than I did.

As I walked the paved trail, part of the city’s major renovation of the park and lagoon, I wasn’t sure she would recognize the place.  But I was sure that 45 years after her death, she would approve.  

The day was a stunner.  The trees were between 20 and 85 degrees of color change.  Of course, back then there were no abandoned electric scooters strewn along the path.  In those days, we relied on push power.

In a neighborhood prone to the whir of sirens, it was oddly quiet.  Silent enough to hear the frogs and the crows croaking. The tall grasses rustling in the breeze.  I stood at the rail remembering.  There were no ducks to throw pieces of bread to now.  

I watched a 20-something fisherman cast his line into the water with a thump.  Another twenty-something man passed by smiling; his friendly pup pulling on the leash to greet me.  

As I walked, I felt an urge to return every season.  To see the landscape change, to notice the movement in me.

The picnic tables and grills surrounding the new shelter were empty.  The water was rippled gently to the west.  I came to the abandoned boat ramp I didn’t remember, rubbed my shoe over the grass growing between its stones.  The boats, like my great aunt and the ducks, were long gone.

I leaned against the railing breathing and snapping photos into and away from the sun.  I felt my great aunt there with me.  Just like she is when I take my “grands” on neighborhood adventures.  Forty-five minutes had passed by the time I headed off.  Yes, I had walked around the lagoon.  But it felt as if I had traveled much farther.


Is there “something so beautiful” you’ve been waiting for the “perfect” time to enjoy?  My great aunt and I would suggest, “Today!  This IS the day!”  Enjoy ~

May Love Prevail

These inspiring photos were taken on Feb. 1 at the 7th Anniversary of the Interfaith Association for Service to Humanity and Nature (IASHN).  That is a long name for an association founded to foster the development of daily spiritual practice, interfaith respect and harmony, seva or service, wise stewardship of resources, and care for the planet.

I was blessed to be present with 11 women from the U.S. and 160 other people from India and around the world at IASHN’s first gathering.  Sr. Lucy, founder and director of Maher, presided over its creation just steps away from Maher’s first home.  IASHN’s founding took place on an auspicious day.  Twenty years before, Maher Ashram, an interfaith, caste-free organization in India had welcomed the first women and children seeking safe shelter. 

As we processed into the hall at Maher’s National Center, Sr. Lucy and Hirabegum Mulla, chair of the Maher Trust, handed each of us rose petals.  I remember the colorful interfaith mandala, scriptures, passages, songs, and chants, lots of joy, and the smell of spices from the kitchen behind us wafting through the hall.

Unlike most Maher gatherings, the IASHN inauguration was just for adults.  Each of us had made a commitment. We agreed to respect and honor all faith traditions, observe a daily spiritual practice, alleviate human suffering and environmental destruction through seva, or service, and to use natural and monetary resources as carefully as possible so that we might serve as many people in need as possible.  

I was the only person in our group to have qualms about making such a commitment.  Having spent 8 months at Maher, I knew the organization’s integrity.  Could I live up to the pledge?  In the end, perhaps because there was no pressure, I signed the double-spaced document, which fills less than a page.

I often fall short.  However, not a day goes by that I don’t think about the higher standards IASHN calls me to and step toward them.  This experience reminds me of a concept Jillian Pransky shares in her book Deep Listening:  A Healing Practice to Calm Your Body, Clear Your Mind, and Open Your Heart. She writes “a little” + “often” = “a lot.” 

Too often, leaders and citizens choose violence, aggression, and righteousness over compassion, collaboration, and compromise.  I find comfort knowing that those of us who have taken the IASHN pledge are walking together in India, Austria, Brazil, Germany, the UK, the U.S., and other countries toward kindness and care.  IASHN offers proof that the answers to human and societal challenges don’t have to be as complicated as we are often led to believe.  IASHN was founded on the principle that “Love is our Religion.”  I remember Meg Wheatley saying once that, “Love is stronger than law.” 

I am sorry I was not there to celebrate IASHN’s anniversary.  That I didn’t have the opportunity to see women religious leaders join Sr. Lucy and the male religious leaders on stage for the first time.  To hear their voices as they offered prayers and teaching.  That I didn’t get to see the young women perform their beautiful interfaith dance.  That I wasn’t there to carry a candle in the peace rally or sit in meditation with the hundreds who were present. 

In a time when so many feel alone and isolated, I am heartened that I can be connected half a world away through simple daily acts of respect, service, love, and care.  That a small, growing movement that costs nothing to join is helping to make our communities and the planet a safer, healthier, happier place for our children, our grandchildren, their children and all the generations to come.  

To learn more about IASHN and how you can bring its message of interfaith harmony and stewardship to your community, reach out to interfaithassociation2017@gmail.com.

Photos published with permission from IASHN.

“Teach People How to Treat You”

Teaching people how to treat us frees us to be who we truly are and opens the possibility for genuine connection . . .

Early in my career, a wise and far more worldly colleague leaned over and advised, “you have to teach people how to treat you.”  Given societal norms, organizational structures, power dynamics, and my conceptual, flexible, yet fiery tendencies, this would prove to be no easy feat. 

I was clumsy enough at “teaching people how to treat me” that I once hung up on my largest client who was loudly and angrily addressing an error that had occurred.  After listening for what seemed like a very long time without being given any opportunity to respond, I warned, “I am hanging up now” and returned the phone to the cradle.  Shocked, the client immediately called my supervisor, who immediately called me into the office and said that, while he understood how frustrating the situation must have been, if it happened again, I would “be out.”

Clarity Makes All the Difference . . .

Now, in my second, wiser and more compassionate and confident half of life, it has become decidedly easier to be clear with myself about:

  • my goals and values and how, where and under what circumstances I will invest my time, energy and resources,
  • how I will treat people and the way I want to and expect to be treated,
  • when my needs are not being met and how I will handle such situations,
  • boundary violations and their consequences,
  • how I will handle untenable or unfulfilling situations.

It took me many years to learn NOT to assume or ascribe any particular standards of behavior or sets of values to people based on accomplishments, status, or positional power.  I also learned that “trusting” we were on the same page in haste or for any other reason was likely to have an undesirable outcome. 

I have come to appreciate that the time it takes for people to teach me how to treat them and vice versa is well worth the investment.  A good first step is asking how they prefer to receive information and what pace of work they prefer.  From there we can move to more complex topics like navigating conflict, change, diversity, and ambiguity.  These conversations require my full attention and require that I process the information on a mental, physical, emotional and spiritual level.  I’ve learned that when something doesn’t feel quite right and I have even the slightest reservation, it’s best to step back and assess.   

This sculpture reminds me to take the time needed to see situations clearly . . .

Gaining clarity on preferences, values and all-to-often unspoken agreements allows both parties to 1) experience the process of engaging with one another and 2) to ascertain if this is a relationship that it makes sense to forge and invest in.  Should we decide through this mutually-instructive process, that one or both of us has reservations, we can jointly decide how to address them or if it is best to move in a different direction at this time.

Teach me how to treat you.  I want to learn.  And, I will teach you, too.

Warmly,

Sherry